Child of Ours
by Eight Horcrux
Summary: Hermione is pregnant and can't sleep. AU.


_It's 7:43am and I've been up, showered and dressed since 5am. I got no sleep at all last night, so instead spent roughly 8 or so hours staring at the wall before rising. In an attempt not to dig a wall or someone's face...I wrote this instead. Hope you enjoy! I also hope you sleep better than I do. _

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><p>.<p>

Hermione roamed the downstairs of their new home; up and down she shuffled, fuzzy slippers wearing a trail in the new carpet she had almost killed herself to staple down last week. It was the morning of her due date and the medi witch had promised she would go at least one full week over term. Baby was kicking again; her liver had taken a battering the last week or so, and this morning it looked like Baby was taking a go at her rib cage. With a disgruntled sigh she turned on the spot, retracing her steps along the hall and back into the kitchen.

Their home was newly renovated and smelled of paint and discarded plastic. Together they had agreed that a fresh start would be best for everyone – her, him and Baby. The cottage in Wiltshire overlooked an acre of land she had insisted they purchase, or rather she had allowed herself to be convinced her future child may enjoy Quidditch and the land might just come in handy for practice.

"_I can guarantee you that if it's a boy, Quidditch will be his profession," Harry had insisted over the phone. _

"_Neither Severus or I have any interest in the sport, Harry," she explained, tucking the phone between ear and shoulder while she tried to straighten a set of shelves. "And anyway, what if it's a girl? Isn't that slightly sexist considering Ginny plays Quidditch?"_

"_She does, but you know… men and all." And she could hear his toying smirk over the phone. "Just trust me on this one, Hermione - any godchild of mine will play Quidditch!"_

"_And any son of Severus'-"_

"_-will be a prodigy when matched with your DNA, so you've bragged about a hundred times already."_

"_I don't brag!"_

She smirked at her reflection in the window, recalling the memory fondly. Everything had gone so well after the war, or as well as could be expected. It took time, as do all great things but each of them eventually found their place in the world. Harry was an auror and part time lecturer; he often spoke at Hogwarts of their adventures and had more than once tried to convince her to come along. She had been too humble though, Ron on the other hand always took the opportunity to shine. In the meantime he worked happily alongside Harry, though Hermione can't help but think he finds it difficult to break away from the shadow of Harry's guidance. They had dated a while, her and Ron, eventually admitting they were too close to be close, and settled for being best friends instead. And her; she had settled into a routine of muggle teaching while she rediscovered her parents, eventually bumping into none other than her now-husband in Australia. He had helped her to find and bring them home, and in turn she showed him a new home and a new life. He often visits Hogwarts to help restock Madam Pomfrey's stores – she insists that there is no finer potion master in Great Britain. Though Hermione half expects that he misses the place at times, she finds she misses it too.

"Thinking again, are we?"

She smiled at his reflection in the window. He laced his arms around her waist, settling just below her bump where Baby had ceased its attack on her innards.

"Just about a few things," she admitted, falling into his touch. His warmth was welcoming; he always did have such comforting arms, who would have guessed?

"A sickle for your thoughts?"

"Now I know that after all of these renovations neither you nor I have sickles to be sparing," she smiled jokingly. "Or have you been holding out on me?"

"Have I ever managed to get much passed you, my dear?"

"You evaded my advances very well back in Australia if I recall." And she turned to face him now, leaning against the kitchen counter and running a hand along his button up night shirt.

"And what a fool I was for that," he said, folding a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's got you up though?"

"Baby has been doing a Michael Flatley on my rib cage since 2am." She grimaced at another kick.

"Been doing a who?" he murmured, smirking at her belly's movements.

"Don't smirk like that, Severus!" She scolded him with a light slap on the wrist. "And he's a river dancer with very fine legs, I might add."

"Well I hope you don't think I'll be escorting this baby to any river dancing lessons," he told her with a custom sneer. "It's bad enough we had to buy that land out there based on Potter's ludicrous ideas."

"Oh hush. I saw you sketching potential green house ideas."

"See?" he smiled, resting his hands on her hips. "I can't get anything passed you, can I?"

"Not with these heightened senses carrying your child has brought me." She wrinkled her nose when she caught the scent of mint from his breath.

"Our child," he smiled, leaning in to peck her gently and when she smiled he remembered all of the reasons he was glad to have survived the war.

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><p><em>Comments are appreciated. <em>


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